


Good Night

by Anonymous



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, But he went for strangling instead, Dark, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Jack could probably talk Rhys to death with his villain speech, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Murder, Object Insertion, Paranoia, Poor Vaughn (Borderlands), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape/Non-con Elements, Strangulation, Therapy, There's A Tag For That
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:48:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: One year after Rhys finally escaped his stalking, abusive and violent ex-boyfriend, the demon of the past comes back.// Heed the tags. Dark work. Tags are self-explanatory.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands), Rhys & Vaughn (Borderlands)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17
Collections: Anonymous





	Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> For some reason, I'm really ashamed of this work. Heed the tags, it is really messed up.

**Good Night**

“See you in the morning! And don’t stay up late!”

The door closes behind Vaughn before Rhys can assure him that he is only gonna watch three more episodes. Soon, there is the sound of motor starting, and Vaughn drives out of the driveway.

Rhys sighs and sinks further into the sofa, trying to focus on the crappy soap opera in the TV, and not at the nagging feeling at the back of his head. Paranoia. Such a stupid thing. Fear that doesn’t make any sense but can drive him mad if ignored.

It got better. After the two anniversaries spent with his friends, the unholy amount of alcohol they drank, Rhys was able to tell his therapist that it is easier to sleep at night, even without locks on all the doors in the house and on all the windows. Not without three pills of sleep aid, though.

The only sound in the house is the TV and Rhys’ own breathing. Still, he is sure he hears silent steps, doors opening and closing, furniture being shifted around. It isn’t really there, but he hears it – feels like he hears it. When it gets unbearable, his whole body tensing up in panic, Rhys turns around.

Nothing. All lights are on – always on – and no shadow is out of place. Every door is closed, because he feels safer when they are closed. He would hear if someone opened them like this, but if they were open, he would get no warning.

He doesn’t need one, of course. Handsome Jack is dead. He was executed in the Pandora Prison one year and one week ago, and on the anniversary of his death, Rhys, Vaughn, Yvette, Sasha and Fiona had a Lord of the Rings marathon with a stupid drinking game and bets. They haven’t had one of those since college, and it was great, took the attention away from the bad things.

The darkest part of Rhys’ life is over, but his mind and body haven’t accepted that yet. The reason why Vaughn was there was to make sure Rhys ate a proper dinner. It was hard to get himself to make a meal and eat it, lately. Ever since his escape, actually.

That was the other anniversary. For one year, four months and three days, after two years of fighting for his rights, Rhys was finally free. He didn’t know, back then, that it was the last time Jack got to him. That when police dragged him away from Vaughn’s aunt Beca’s lawn, where he and his friends were hiding in yet another attempt to save Rhys from his abusive boyfriend’s grasp, it was the last time. Jack wasn’t released this time, didn’t bribe his way out.

Then came the trial. It looked as if for the first time in his life, Jack grew conscience. He admitted to all his crimes, apologised publicly to Rhys, to Angel, to all the people that died because of him. He even admitted to some murders. Nobody knew he had killed those people, but he admitted it anyway. Gave all the gruesome details.

During the trial, Jack looked ready to accept any punishment for his crimes. He changed his mind when he was led to the electric chair, going absolutely crazy, but Rhys was told all of them do that. In the face of death, Jack was like any other criminal.

And then he was not anymore. He was gone. Rhys was free, and all that was left of the abuser, stalker and maniac were scars and fear.

It feels like the air in the room is shifting, and Rhys closes his eyes for a second, his heart rate spiking up. It is nothing but the small gap under the front door causing a little breeze. Vaughn must have accidentally moved the rug aside again when he left.

Rhys takes a deep breath and holds it, counting seconds. When he breaths out, he is a little calmer already. He still has to turn around and check the house if he wants to be able to get back to the stupid show he isn’t watching anyway.

Rhys straightens out a little, about to turn around, but every sound coming from the TV stops suddenly as something explodes on the screen and the POV character goes temporary deaf. But Rhys’ breathing isn’t the only sound in the room.

Ironically, he doesn’t have time to panic before an arm is hooked around his neck and a forearm squeezes his airways. His arms scramble to pull at the arm, but whoever is the intruder, they are strong and have him in the perfect chokehold. Seconds tick away in silence as Rhys’ struggle doesn’t lead anywhere and the lack of oxygen gets to him fast.

In the last second, he notes that he feels detached. He thought he would be more scared when Death came for him, but maybe he had been through too much shit in the last five years. He feels calm as he slips out of consciousness.

* * *

* * *

Rhys wakes up to pain and coldness, and that’s how he knows he isn’t in heaven nor hell. His head throbs, every muscle in his body aches. It takes him a full minute to realise that he is head-down. Blood thrums in his ears, muffling any other sound.

Memories come flooding to him as he tries to move – memories of fear, wind, an arm choking him to death. No, not death. Not yet.

“Aaah, you’re awake!” a voice sings close to him. A voice that haunts his nightmares, an impossible voice. “Didn’t think you would wake up ever again. Not that it matters.”

Rhys is not only head down, but also bent in half. His aching body and dizzy mind fight to make sense of the position until finally, he recognises the fabric under his naked skin as the backrest of his sofa. His legs are resting on the cushions and his upper body hangs behind the couch. With the little energy left in him, Rhys can’t get up or down, stuck.

The owner of the voice laughs, amused by his struggles. Then, he pulls Rhys back by his hips, letting him tumble off the sofa. Before he can try to get up, a foot in a heavy boot comes down on his chest, holding him there.

His vision is blurred, so he doesn’t see at first who the attacker is. But he knows from what he says next. “Hey, kiddo! Did you miss me?”

Rhys lets out a relieved sigh and chuckles dryly. “This is a nightmare,” he states. “You are not real. You are dead. I’m having a stupid nightmare!”

“Oh, yeah?” Jack laughs above him. “Do you think one of your funny little nightmares raped your ass?” To emphasise his point, he takes his foot off Rhys’ chest and kicks him in the side, sending a jolt of pain that he had been ignoring up until now through his insides.

“Fuck!” Rhys grunts, instinctively clutching his stomach and curling up. He closes his eyes and forces himself to ignore it all, though, to not believe. It is just his paranoia making him see, hear, feel things that aren’t there. It doesn’t exist. He is safe and Jack is dead.

“Language,” Jack tuts at him. He reaches down and effortlessly pulls Rhys up on the sofa again, pressing him to the cushions with his own bulk. “You know, Rhys,” he says conversationally as he puts a hand on his throat and squeezes just a little. “I really did love you. More than anything. I couldn’t bear the thought that you are not _mine_ ,” he growls, squeezing harder, “but then you started acting up like a hysterical little lady and tried to ruin everything.

“Wanna know how I survived the electric chair? Remember my little brother Timothy, my twin no-one knows about? Well, he is no more. A little bribe here and there, and we were swapped on the way to the room. And then I had a year to think; to decide what to do about you. I really loved you, Rhys…” His other hand comes to gently caress Rhys’ cheek.

All the while Jack is speaking, Rhys is frozen, silent. The gentle fingertips on his face burn like fire, and he twitches away from them. Jack’s face changes instantly, his thoughtful, non-threatening expression morphing into disgust and anger.

“But not anymore,” he says, the hand on Rhys’ neck squeezing dangerously. “I realised that I can live without you. Realised that I won’t mind killing you if it teaches you a lesson. You don’t run away from Handsome Jack.”

The Darkness is back. Rhys started seeing the black fog clouding Jack’s beautiful eyes when he was hit by him for the first time. He thought he was going crazy back then. Maybe he was; maybe he is crazy, but whenever there is the Darkness in Jack’s eyes, he is in danger, and there is so much of it now that Jack’s eyes are black.

His own vision begins to blur again as his brain slowly runs out of oxygen, but Jack lets go before he can pass out this time. “One more time,” he says and reaches down to forcefully spread Rhys’ legs, forcing himself between them.

“No,” Rhys tries to say, but his throat hurts unbelievably, and he cannot force out more than a few rasps. His weak attempts at struggle are laughed at as Jack pins him down with ease, pulling his hard cock from his pants.

The abuser spits into his hand and coats his prick with the saliva, and that is all the mercy that Rhys gets. Jack aligns himself with his entrance with one hand while using the other to hold both of Rhys’, much smaller hands down.

The stretch on itself isn’t as unbearable as expected, and Rhys is once again remained that Jack raped him while he was passed out. The pain is what makes him throw his head back and scream mutely.

Tutting, Jack shoves two fingers into Rhys’ mouth, causing him to gag, and then sets a lazy pace. His thrusts are long and deep, he is taking his time, only thrusting harder a few times as a punishment when Rhys bites him.

“We could have been great, Rhysie,” he says. “The things we could have done... We could have taken the world for ourselves. Handsome Jack and his pretty husband… But you had to get these weird ideas about having more _free will_ , doing more decisions, going _out_!” He starts strangling the younger man again until his eyes begin to roll back into his head but then lets go.

“This is really not my fault,” he continues more calmly, though he picks up a faster pace. Small whimpers escape Rhys’ lips, but they are ignored, because Jack is not Blue.

On some days, even when their relationship began to crumble, Jack was especially nice to Rhys. He would do anything he saw in his eyes, promise anything in the world, even go down on his knees before him, apologising. On those days, Rhys was sure there was Blue aura around Jack.

“I wish I knew what was going on in that thick skull of yours. Maybe we could still fix this!” He groans, thrusting faster. “I loved you so much, and what you did hurt, Rhys! I’ll make you regret you’ve ever been born before I kill you!”

Jack moans loudly, spilling deep into Rhys and denying him of oxygen again. He collapses on him for a while, catching his breath. The younger man would take it as an opportunity to talk, beg, but he is busy gasping, fighting for any bit of oxygen he can get. It feels like the last round of strangling left his throat feeling really swollen, and all he can do is cough out: “J-Jack!”

“Oh, now that’s disgusting,” Jack says, and only then Rhys realises that he blacked out for a minute. Jack is already fully clothed again, sitting up and looking at Rhys’ ass. “You’re leaking all over the nice couch! Here, let me help.”

Rhys watches the older man move through half-lidded eyes, staying conscious being harder and harder for him as he coughs and sputters. He sees the TV remote being picked up and then feels something cold and hard pressing at the still quivering hole of his ass until it gives. He gargles a sound of pain as the object is forced in, stretching his abused walls in unnatural ways.

It hits a dead end, but Jack merely pulls it out a little and thrusts it back in with more force, pushing past any resistance Rhys’ body managed to put up. “That’s better,” he hums in appreciation when the whole thing disappears in Rhys. “Now I just get to enjoy the best part…”

Jack kneels over Rhys, keeping him down with his weight, even though the young man is half gone and unable to fight anymore. Both big hands close around a small throat and squeeze. Unexpectedly, something gives, and Rhys sputters for the last time, a trail of saliva running down the side of his face. The last thing he hears before the Darkness takes him is: “Good night, love.”

* * *

* * *

Vaughn is nervous. He shouldn’t be, has no reason to be, but Rhys’ paranoia has rubbed off on him. Not that he didn’t get his fair share of trauma during the situation with Handsome Jack.

Instead of going to work, the accountant drives to his friend’s place. Rhys hadn’t answered any of his messages or calls since morning, and he has a very bad feeling about it. It is almost eleven, and Rhys never sleeps past half past five.

Owning a spare key, he gets in easily. Everything seems to be in place on the first sigh, and his anxiety eases a little. However, Rhys is nowhere to be seen.

“Bro?” Vaughn calls. “I came to check on you! I swear that if I drove here for nothing you pay pizza for the next two months! Pick up your damn phone!”

He walks to the bedroom first, but the bed is made, and nobody is there. The study is empty too, and Vaughn’s anxiety spikes up again. He is about to start dialling every number he knows, contacting any person that could know where Rhys is, when he walks past the living room again and calms down instantly.

So, Rhys spent the whole night up watching cheap soap operas and now he is sleeping on the couch. He looks peaceful, like a child, body curled under a throw blanket, a pillow under his face, dried saliva trailing from his mouth.

“You big baby,” Vaughn comments it with a chuckle. Rhys’ slightly longer than normal hair is all over his face, his hands resting in a position that hints that he probably sucked his thumb in his sleep.

It looks peaceful, and Vaughn hates to disturb the calmness, but if Rhys is to sleep later at night, he needs to get up now. Besides, it is almost time to make lunch. “Okay, Rhys, time to get up!” he calls loudly, walking closer. His friend, however, doesn’t even stir.

“Don’t play dead with me,” Vaughn rolls his eyes. “I know you are awake; I’ve seen you move,” he lies. In the end, he decides to take Rhys’ blanket away from it, tugging it loose in one sharp pull.

A flock of birds fly away in panic from nearby branches as the accountant screams. Only now he notices the bruises on Rhys’ neck, and more on his stomach, sides, hips and thighs. Only now he sees that his best friend in the whole world is… dead.

His fingers tremble as he dials the emergency number. He tries to turn around, but as he moves, the phone falls from his hand and shatters, because he sees the remote in Rhys’ ass, covered in cum, and he has to retch.

A single shot echoes through the small neighbourhood.

**Author's Note:**

> I got directly inspired by [this](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/82097023) comic. **CW: Murder, Necrophilia, NSFW!** Here you can view it on [Reddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/guro/comments/gwr1xa/goodnight/), where I found it. First link should be to artist.
> 
> By the way, I had no idea that the headline on the post was "Goodnight" until now, long after I wrote and named the work. So, it must have gotten stuck deep in my brain after I glanced at it once. :D Which is a fun fact. If you are still in a mood to laugh after reading/seeing this, props to you.


End file.
